


Claire's Gift

by silsecri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Off-screen Relationship(s), Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silsecri/pseuds/silsecri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets the kind of gift that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claire's Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting an old story for the sake of archiving all my works in one place.
> 
> Set sometime in the first half of season 2 (before The Usual Suspects)

**Claire's Gift**

The ringing phone made Dean smile. Sam had insisted he didn’t need Dean holding his hand while he questioned the last witness. Apparently, little brother wasn’t as independent as he thought. 

But the display didn’t read ‘Pain in the Ass’. 

“Yeah.” 

The voice that answered was familiar but he couldn’t place it immediately. 

_“Dean? This is Daniel Watters… From New Orleans?”_

Right. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. What’s up?” 

Daniel sounded strange, almost reluctant. Dean figured maybe that meant they had a new hunt for when they managed to wrap this up. If they managed to. 

_“Right, er, good. It’s good that you remember.”_

Dean snorted. “Well, it’s not everyday that you see something like _that_ , you know?” 

_“Sure, the hunt.”_ Dean frowned, what else was he supposed to- _“Listen, what else do you remember?”_

“The flamethrower?” Dean was drawing a blank here. 

Daniel chocked on the snort that wanted to escape. _“From outside the job, I mean.”_

Dean tried to place those days he’d spent in New Orleans. The first week had been business as usual. Digging up the info, hitting up the contacts. Daniel was a go-to guy for weapons. He knew his stuff, but he didn’t actually hunt himself. Voodoo hunts always got complicated. He’d been staying with Daniel at his place and they stuck together most of the time, his house, the diner, the bar… “Uuh… I don’t know… Aside from the pancakes and the redhead…” 

He heard Daniel let out a relieved sigh. _“You remember Claire then?”_

Dean nodded. “Claire, right. Yeah, I remember her.” The whole thing was getting weird. “What’s this about, man?” 

Daniel sounded decidedly apologetic now. _“Listen, I’m sorry to do this. I don’t really know how to put it…”_ Dean’s throat dried. _“Claire’s sick.”_

Well, that was unexpected. “I’m sorry. She’s a good friend of yours, isn’t she?” Daniel had introduced him to the cute waitress in the bar where he spent most of his free time. 

_“Yeah, we go way back… Thanks. Mm, the thing is, she’s got like two, maybe three months left.”_

Dean winced. It sucked to hear that. He hadn’t known her long, really. Maybe six, seven days. It still sucked. “That bad, huh? I’m really sorry to hear that, Danny. Claire’s an awesome woman.” He really meant it, too. But his hackles were rising. Why was Daniel calling him to tell him that? 

_“Yeah, she is… The thing is, er, she’s got something for you.”_ Dean felt his heart halt. _“She asked me to look you up, see if maybe you wouldn’t mind stopping by before…”_

There were very few things he could imagine Claire having for him. And the most obvious would have been a nine-month in the making going away present he possibly left behind. It’s not like they hadn’t tempted fate… a lot. 

“Something…” he drawled. Not stupid here, dude. “She’s got some _thing_ for me?” 

Daniel sighed again. _“I know, I know. But I promised not to tell you.”_ Dean heard Daniel’s apology, and something else. He figured the guy hadn’t exactly been happy with Dean when he found out. 

Not like Claire was his girl or anything. Dean remembered Claire telling him they’d been friends since high school and Daniel took care of her because she didn’t have any family left. 

In the end, Dean said the only thing he could. “We’re doing a job in Wyoming. It’ll take two, maybe three more days. I’ll head down after.” 

A hesitant pause, then, _“Okay… I don’t know if I should say ‘thanks’ or ‘sorry’, man.”_

Dean shook his head. “Neither. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and set the phone carefully down. 

Right then, Dean couldn’t think clearly. He’d been dreading a call like this most of his adult life. Not that he usually left a number behind. But it happened, sometimes. He stood where he was, next to the bed, looking at nothing. Paralysed. 

The soft click of the door closing startled him. He turned and met Sam’s eyes. They looked at each other silently for a few moments. Dean couldn’t read Sam’s eyes. Did he know? 

“It’s not like I’m really surprised,” Sam said softly, finally moving. 

Well, that answered that question. Still, “You’ve been there long?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Enough.” 

When Sam just went about business as usual, Dean couldn’t help but push it. “So…” 

Sam gave him a blank look. “So?” 

Dean glared. He didn’t feel like butting heads with Sam. If he wanted to say something he better just do it. “I don’t know, Sam. Don’t you want to lecture me or something?” 

Sam shook his head. “About what, Dean? _You_ gave _me_ the safe sex talk, remember?” 

Oh, Dean remembered. The smile was automatic. He’d never seen Sam so embarrassed before. Of course he had embarrassed him often later, it had been a favorite pastime of Dean’s, but THE talk had been the first. Good times. 

He was about to lecture Sam about how he’d better been listening to Dean’s “rules” when it came to sex when the whole thing exploded into his mind. 

Holy shit. 

He was the one who needed reminding, apparently. 

Well, no. Because he _had_ practiced safe sex. He always did. He had probably become a victim of that unfortunate 1-2%. 

He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that Sam’s voice startled him. 

“I could finish up here, meet you there in a few days,” he offered. It wasn’t an ideal solution. He wasn’t clear on everything that had been said, having only heard Dean’s side. But he got the feeling Dean had to go. 

Dean only glared at him. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you here to finish the job alone.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, it’s just a spirit. A simple salt and burn.” 

Dean shook his head and sat down on his bed. “One, we still don’t know what it is.” Sam opened his mouth but Dean barrelled on, “Two, even if it is a spirit, we wouldn’t know whose grave to dig up yet. And three, stop being retarded. I’m not leaving you, Sam. Period.” 

Sam hesitated. He didn’t really want to stay behind either. Splitting only ever got them in trouble, anyway. But… 

“Didn’t you say something about time?” 

Dean sighed, all the fight leaving him. He’d almost forgotten he had a deadline. 

“There’s time, Sammy. Let’s just finish this job first and we’ll deal with the rest later, okay?” 

Sam could see and hear the weariness in Dean. He nodded. “Sure.” 

\----- 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” 

Dean looked up from the book he was reading. They were in the library, again. This freaking hunt didn’t make any sense. 

“About what?” 

But Dean knew. Sam was looking at him as if he was waiting for Dean to bite his head off. Right. About that. Like he could think of anything else. Did Sam really think if he could focus on the hunt they’d still be looking for a candidate? The ashes would be cold by now if he didn’t have this constantly whispering in his head. Like his head needed more stuff festering there. 

“Dean.” 

Right. Brother. Not giving up. “Can we focus on the case, Sam? We need to find the sucker before midnight… We’ve wasted two days already.” 

Sam glared at him. And why the hell was he glaring at him? Dean had an excuse for not focusing. Why hadn’t Sam found the sucker yet? 

Sam looked affronted. “I am looking.” He glared at Dean then. “But, wonder of wonders, I can also talk at the same time.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. Lame, Sammy. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be geniuses like you.” 

Sam knew Dean was trying to rile him up so he’d give up on the chick-flick talk. “Dean--“ 

Dean looked at him, his eyes pleading, and Sam shut up. 

“Sam, please. Not now.” 

Sam really wanted to push. He hadn’t managed to get much out of Dean in the two days since the phone call. But Dean rarely begged. He sighed. 

“Sure. But that won’t make it go away,” he couldn’t help but add. 

Dean snapped. “Dammit, Sam. What do you want me to say, huh? What do you expect me to do?” 

He regretted pushing now. ”I don’t know.” Sam used to be able to read Dean like an open book. He’d always thought that was a skill on his part. Turns out the only reason he could was because Dean let him. He'd discovered that since their father's death. 

And he wasn’t letting him now. 

“I have no idea what’s going through your mind. At all. You haven’t said a word about it in two days. Not the girl--“ 

“Claire,” Dean cut in. He didn’t like the way Sam calling her the girl made it sound cheap. It wasn’t love by any means, but he’d liked Claire. 

Sam’s lips quirked. Progress! He went on. “Not Claire, not the kid, not even the hunt you were in.” 

Dean rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. God, he hated these talks. “I know.” 

Sam waited. He wanted to know, but he didn’t want to force Dean. Ideally, Dean would want to share with his brother. Sam mentally snorted. Right, reality then. Not forcing, just nudging. What would be the best way to get Dean to open up just a little- 

“I don’t even know if it’s a girl or a boy.” 

Sam blinked. Wasn’t that the first thing you were told? Dean sighed and Sam felt like a failure. What was it he was supposed to say now? “Dean…” 

Dean didn’t wait to see what Sam came up with. “I just-” He rubbed his hand down his face. “Shit, it’s not like I don’t know what it all entails. I mean, you were around that age when we left Kansas. Just a few months older. Not that my memories are crystal clear, but I do remember stuff,” he was babbling now. 

Sam tried to bring him back into focus. “So it’s around…” 

Dean nodded. “Six months old, give or take. Claire and I- well it was the second week of October 2005. New Orleans.” 

Sam blinked, surprised. But… “That would be right before you—” 

Dean looked back down and picked up the book he’d abandoned. “Went to get you in Palo Alto, yeah.” 

Sam watched his brother put the walls back up. He sighed. At least he’d gotten Dean to talk. It was more than he’d really expected. He turned back to his own search. 

Ten long, silent minutes later, “Found it,” Sam said, closing up the search windows on the library computer. 

\----- 

The hunt had been easy once they figured out who the spirit was. Just as Sam had said. A simple salt and burn.

Of course, with them, ‘simple’ meant flying into tombstones and getting every limb knocked into something hard. 

Dean didn’t remember the job being this annoying when he was younger. It was as if even the little things were getting bolder. 

They’d been so wiped they’d crashed the moment they’d gone back to the room. Not even stopping to shower. Joys of not having to deal with the dirty sheets yourself. 

Dean had been jolted awake by a horn outside the hotel almost an hour ago and he couldn’t get back to sleep. But it was too early to get up yet. Barely five thirty. Sam could use some more sleep. So Dean stayed where he was, looking at the ceiling and thinking about his words to Sam yesterday. 

He did have an idea what it was to be on the road with a baby. And what it was like to grow up always moving around, living out of hotels or cheap apartments, two or three, during the school year. 

And he’d seen what it did to Sam. 

He tried to tell himself he was getting ahead of himself. Just because Claire was calling him back and she was sick didn’t mean she necessarily wanted him to take care of the kid. She’d kinda gotten to know him a little after all. 

But why else would she tell him now? He knew she had no family left. So the baby would end up in the system if the father didn’t make a claim, right? He wasn’t sure how that worked. All he knew about CPS was to stay the hell away from them. To keep his head down and fly under their radar. 

God, would he have to go through that like his dad had? He’d hated seeing the fear in his father’s eyes every time they had a close call. He didn’t even want to think about how scared he himself had been once he’d understood what was at stake. 

But could he stop hunting? Just settle down somewhere and make a life for himself and his child? 

What about Sam, then? He had to save his brother. He had to protect him and make sure nothing bad happened to him. It was his job. The one he’d tried to do all his life. Even when Sam didn’t want him doing it. The one his father had given him with his last breath. 

And what about everybody else? Dean had always prided himself in saving lives. He’d spent his life standing between the darkness and the innocent. Could he give that up to stand between evil and only his child? Could he turn a blind eye to every suspicious article? Ignore the calls for help? 

Did he have a choice at all? 

Sam sat up in his bed and looked at Dean. It wasn’t six a.m. yet but he’d been listening to Dean sigh and turn around in bed for a while now. 

“You want to get on the road?” 

Dean mirrored his brother, looking around the room. They were done here anyway. 

“Yeah,” he said, leaving the bed. “You can sleep some more in the car.” 

\----- 

Sam had been asleep for a while now, the radio turned on low so it wouldn’t wake him. Dean had been so busy pushing all thoughts of Claire and what waited for him in New Orleans that he’d found himself swamped with memories of a very young Sam. He guessed he should’ve seen it coming. 

_“Come on, Sammy. You have to.”_

Four-year-old Sam hid beneath a ratty old blanket in the middle of the room. Dean stood in the doorway to the small bathroom, towel in hand and a suffering look on his face. 

“Sammy, you can play with them later.” 

“Uh-uh. Roar and Claw have to come, too. Dad promised.” 

Dean sighed. Yeah, Dad had promised Sam a long time ago that he could bring the toys with him into the bathtub because Sam hated bath time and anything that made the chore easier was welcome. But they’d just moved into this apartment and Dad had to meet someone about a monster and he’d left Dean to put Sam to bed before anyone noticed that the small bathroom only had a shower. 

“Sammy, you can bring them, you know.” 

Sam’s head poked out from beneath the blanket and he threw Dean a mutinous look. Really, how the kid still thought Dean couldn’t see him just because he couldn’t see Dean was beyond him. 

“There’s no tub to play in, Dean. You just want me to come out of hiding.” 

Dean didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. 

“Tell you what, Sammy. You leave Roar and Claw hiding wherever you are and we’ll share the shower.” He saw the Sam-lump freeze. Time to end this. “I’ll let you wear my PJ’s after.” 

For a moment Dean thought he’d miscalculated. Then Sam pushed the blanket away and deliberately put the toys on the table. He walked to the bathroom and told Dean as he passed him, “They don’t feel like a bath, anyway.” 

Dean nodded earnestly and followed him inside, being careful to hide his triumphant smile from Sam. 

Dad had bought Dean new pjs for his birthday, a few weeks ago. Batman pajamas. 

PJ’s that featured Batman AND belonged to Dean, who Sam idolized, were just too much for Sammy to resist. 

Dean turned on the shower and helped Sam undress. 

Two hours later, showered, fed and tucked into bed next to Dean, Sam sighed happily and slept through Dad’s return and questions to Dean about the night routine. John, satisfied Dean had remembered everything, kissed his children’s foreheads and retired to the bathroom. 

Dean could see the sliver of light under the closed door. Sam was a warm weight on his side. He was almost asleep himself. But he’d felt the approval on his father’s words and goodnight kiss. He’d done good. 

They’d made it through another day. 

The Impala made a clanking noise and stopped, startling Dean out of the memory. He looked down at the gauge panel and swore. 

“Dammit!” 

Sam woke up in the middle of the night on a deserted road to the sight of Dean hitting the wheel. They were just sitting in the center of the road, not on the shoulder, and Sam knew it had to be serious if Dean was taking it out on the car. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still more asleep than awake. 

Dean glanced at him briefly. Sam could see the clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. For a moment he thought maybe Dean wouldn’t answer. 

Eventually Dean met his eyes defiantly. “We're out of gas,” he said. 

Sam was speechless. As far as he could remember Dean had never ran out of gas. His obsession with the Impala wouldn’t allow it. He always made sure the car had everything it needed. He’d been out of gas a few times, in the beginning when he was still new to driving, and even Dad had found himself stranded at some point, too busy with a hunt to realize the car was running low. 

But never Dean. 

Finally, Dean let out an exasperated sigh and met Sam’s eyes, maybe expecting a rant. 

“I think the spare can is full,” he offered instead. He was pretty sure he’d been the one to stock the trunk last. 

Dean nodded and stepped out. 

Live to see. 

\----- 

A while later Sam was still wondering what had been in Dean’s mind. He’d been asleep for hours. Dean didn’t want to delay the trip any longer than he had to so Sam was resting now to take his turn at the wheel later. 

But he couldn’t just let it go. 

“How did you not notice you were running dry?” 

Dean ignored him. 

“Dean?” 

“I was distracted, okay?” Dean snapped. 

Sam looked out to the post they were about to pass. They weren’t where they were supposed to be. He looked at Dean but he wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. Sam snorted. 

“You realize when we get there, I’ll know where we're going, right? It doesn’t matter if you don’t tell me.” 

Dean glared at him. They rode in silence another fifteen miles. Sam didn’t mind. He could outwait Dean any day of the week. And twice on Sundays. 

When it finally came, the answer surprised the hell out of Sam, though. 

“Lawrence.” 

Sam gaped at his brother, his mouth opening and closing but nothing came out. 

“Spit it out, Sam,” Dean said, but he sounded shell-shocked himself. 

Sam’s brain clicked back on. “Why?” He wasn’t sure he’d get an answer. 

In the end, Dean managed to wrap his mind around the whole thing and looked at his brother. “I wanna talk to Missouri.” And hell if only a week ago Dean wouldn’t have sworn those words would never leave his mouth. 

His tone put the period at the end of the sentence and Sam knew the conversation was over. 

Sighing, he let it go. Dean was having a hard enough time dealing with his own issues; Sam didn’t want to dump his own worries on him. 

“Let me know when you want to swap.” 

\----- 

The door opened before any of them could knock. 

“Come on in then, boys,” Missouri greeted them. 

Dean didn’t say a word. He entered the house and went to the living room where they’d talked to Missouri last time. 

Sam followed his brother, smiling at the older woman and squeezing her arm as he passed. They entered the living room and found Dean standing by the window, his back to them. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. 

Missouri shook her head, amused. “Spit it out, Dean. What is it you wanted from me?” 

Sam flinched and Dean turned to glare at her. “Don’t you know?” 

Missouri smiled sweetly. “Of course I do, child. But I want to hear you say it.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, and Missouri added. “Not that, Dean Winchester,” she scolded him. “You want my help, remember?” She had a pretty good idea of what Dean wanted but there was a thick cloud surrounding his thoughts, almost like he wasn’t sure himself what he was thinking. 

Sam could actually see Dean biting his tongue. He knew his brother hated asking for help from anyone; and Missouri, especially, put him on edge. But he hadn’t gotten an answer from Dean so he wanted to hear what he had to say, too. 

“You know I got a kid,” he gritted out. “I want protection for… both of them.” He didn’t want to verbalize the fact that he didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl yet. “I want you to tell me what I need to give them so they’re safe.” 

Surprise struck Sam silent. That was the last thing he’d been expecting. Not that he’d known what to expect. Although it probably shouldn’t have been. Dean was a natural born protector. Sam knew that perfectly. And they’d talked about it a little, just not in that many words. 

Missouri gave him a speculative look. “What kind of protection?” 

“Your kind, woman!” Dean exclaimed exasperated. “The herbs and dirt kind. Like those things you gave us to expel the poltergeist, you know. Just tell me what you need: peacock feathers, frog’s eyes, rat’s tail, four leaf clover?” 

Missouri, who had been frowning at him at the implication that she was a witch, just burst out laughing. Even Sam snickered briefly before Dean’s glare shut him up. 

“I’m not kidding.” This time, the fear in his voice and face sobered the psychic up. 

She approached him and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the couch. Dean sat down and leaned on his knees. She let her hand on his back. 

“I know you’re worried, honey, but it just don’t work like that.” 

Sam saw Dean’s shoulders sag in defeat. He sat down opposite his brother and offered whatever comfort Dean would let himself take from him. 

Missouri smiled at him and he guessed she knew what he was feeling. She turned back to Dean. “I can make two amulets, if that’ll make you feel better. Something to ward off bad energies. Even protect them some, from the minor stuff. But there isn’t a magic solution for the evils of your world, Dean.” 

Silence fell upon them all. Dean stared at the floor, and Sam stared at Dean. Missouri let the words sink in for both of them. Not that it was anything they didn’t already know. She knew John had instilled that notion on their young, impressionable minds from the get go. That thought reminded her of something else about John and she chuckled. 

Both Winchesters looked at her, surprised. 

“I just remembered your daddy asked me for the same thing when he learned the truth. He wanted you to be protected, too.” 

That made Sam smile. Thoughts of his father didn’t open up that well of anger and resentment he’d been feeding for years. Now that the man was dead, Sam welcomed anything people who’d known him throughout the years had to offer. He’d had a few conversations with Ellen about him. Even Jo had let told him a thing or two of what she remembered about John. 

He’d never thought of the man his father had been. Nothing beyond the shortcomings as a father he’d perceived during his teenage years had gotten through Sam’s discontent while growing up. He was sorry for that now. 

Dean shook his head fondly. It tore him to think himself that similar to his dad. He loved the man to pieces, yes, but Sam had a point. Dean didn’t want to be the kind of father John had been in some aspects. He didn’t want to end up driving his child away the way John had Sam. God! He didn’t even know if he wanted his child close in the first place. Was that what was best for the kid? 

Missouri felt the change in the air. She stood. “I’ll need a few hours. There are some things I’ll have to get for those charms.” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay.” He’d have to make sure they were protected personally, that was all. “We should leave anyway. It was stupid-” 

“Don’t make me slap you, boy. You’ll stay for lunch. There’ll be time to get on the road then. You just sit tight and wait here.” 

\----- 

Dean was back behind the wheel. Once they’d hit the city limits they’d swapped places. Dean knew where he was going after all. 

Sam was tired and sleepy; he’d been the one driving through the late night, early morning. But he didn’t want to leave Dean on his own. Sleep would have to wait. 

Dean drove through the city in silence. The radio was off. Sam wanted to offer any support he could but he just didn’t know how. 

It was very early so they had almost all the streets to themselves. It wasn’t long before Dean stopped the car next to an apartment building. He took the key from the ignition and looked at Sam. This is it, his eyes said. 

“Maybe we should wait a while. They’re probably sleeping,” Dean mumbled. 

Sam offered him a small smile. “Little kids tend to wake up really early. Even one of yours,” he tried to joke. 

Dean smirked but his heart wasn’t in it. He took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Sam followed his brother to the front door. The door was opening when they got there and they stepped aside to let an old woman exit the building. She smiled at them pleasantly and held the door open for them. Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. That was easy. 

They took the stairs up to the second floor and stood before the apartment number 6. Dean raised his arm to knock on the door. He hesitated at the last moment and glanced at Sam who nodded. 

He rapped his knuckles on the door softly. In case they were asleep, he told himself. And then he heard the childish giggle and froze. 

A few moments later the door opened and Claire stood on the doorway. 

Dean had been worried about seeing her again. Was she mad at him? Did she think he was an asshole for getting her pregnant and then disappearing? Nevermind that she had the means to get in touch with him all this time, because Daniel had his number, and hadn’t. It was almost second nature to him to expect disappointment from the people that mattered. His kid’s mother qualified. 

He swallowed with difficulty over the lump growing in his throat. “Claire.” 

Sam was watching both Dean and Claire. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. And very thin. Not in a good way, either. But the smile that lit her face when she saw Dean put Sam at ease. 

“Dean, I’m so glad you could make it,” she said softly. 

Dean gave her the closest thing to a smile he could manage. 

She took a step forward and hugged Dean. He returned the embrace awkwardly. Part of it because he hadn’t seen her or thought about her in more than a year, before the call, and part because she looked so fragile. 

She let go and looked at Sam. Dean hurried to introduce them. “Claire, this is my brother Sam.” 

Sam extended his hand but Claire surprised him with a brief hug and a kiss on his cheek. “It’s good to meet you, Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Sam smiled and looked at Dean who rolled his eyes. 

“Come in. She’s awake. I just fed her. She’s in her playpen.” 

She moved into the apartment and they followed her. It was a small place, only one bedroom, Dean remembered. The play yard was in the middle of the room, in front of the couch were he could see the rumpled blanket Claire had been sitting under. 

She was beautiful. There was no other word for it. She had dark blond hair, very short still. And her eyes were emerald green, lighter than his. They’d probably turn a softer shade with time. He thought he’d heard eye color changed in kids after a while. Maybe they’d already changed. He didn’t really know. 

Sam and Claire watched Dean approach the small girl playing with a teddy bear. When his shadow fell upon her, she looked up into Dean’s face and Sam was sure Dean would crumble right then and there when she smiled at him. 

She raised her arms, happily asking to be held and Dean glanced at Claire, asking for permission. She nodded and watched him lean down and carefully lift his daughter into his arms. 

Dean studied her, everything about her. He smiled and turned to the other two. “She’s cuter than you were, Sammy.” 

Sam felt it then. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same. They had a lot to talk about, Claire hadn’t even explained anything yet. But Sam could see it in Dean’s eyes. 

He was a father now.


End file.
